


Snakes in the Grass

by MoominQuartz (IceCreAMS)



Category: The Outer Worlds (Video Game)
Genre: Betrayal, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, The Outer Worlds Quest: Friendship's Due, The Outer Worlds Quest: Sucker Bait
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27186413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceCreAMS/pseuds/MoominQuartz
Summary: Felix has never been very good at judging a person's character. The good vicar has something to say about that.Spoilers for the quests "Sucker Bait" and "Friendship's Due."
Relationships: Maximillian DeSoto & Felix Millstone
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	Snakes in the Grass

It wasn’t exactly like Felix got on well with the old man. They argued more days than not, and Felix found Max’s tendency towards preaching to be irritating even on a good day. OSI was nothing more than a tool that the Board used to keep the working man content. Keep your head down, do your work, and don’t ask any questions, because that’ll mess with the _Grand Plan._ Ugh. The whole thing left a bad taste in his mouth.

But… then there was the fact that belief in this ‘Architect,’ in this ‘Grand Plan,’ really seemed to bring the vicar something like comfort. Felix almost envied that.

When they discovered Graham was nothing but a rotten traitor, preaching tenets of Philosophism and building it into nearly cult-like status solely for the sake of his own ego, Felix was… lost. Angry. It wasn’t like he’d really had the chance to get to know the guy, but during his off hours on Monarch he’d been able to snatch him up for a drink. Graham had sounded so wise, so learned, so… so much like the kind of revolutionary Felix dreamed of being.

Graham was a charlatan. So what did that make Felix, for being so easily led? 

He holed himself up in his room for a while after that, lost in thought. He had a journal, but actually having to put pen to paper made him nearly nauseous. Having to actually _articulate_ what it was about this that made him feel all torn up inside… Well, let’s just say he wasn’t even feeling up to tuning in to his usual tossball games.

Maybe that was what made the vicar approach him.

“Something is troubling you.”

Felix snorted at the man in his doorway. “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

Max inclined his head. With a roll of his eyes, Felix let him into the room so they could properly talk. As Felix fell back onto his bed, Max cleared his throat. “I came to offer you… counseling. It does not necessarily need to be spiritual in nature.”

“What, you mean you _ain’t_ gonna preach to me this time?”

“I could always rescind my offer, if you’re going to be a child about this.”

“Everyone’s a child compared to you, old man.”

Max raised an eyebrow. Felix bit his tongue and avoided eye contact, which resulted in him staring at the journal on his desk. If only the damn thing had worked, then he wouldn’t still be cooped up in here like a fucking loon.

“This is about Mr. Bryant, is it not?”

“Huh?” Felix’s head shot upwards, jaw dropping. “How — how did you know?”

“Even if I hadn’t, you just confirmed it.”

Felix scowled. Max came forward and pulled out the chair at his desk, sitting down. Too close to his journal for Felix’s tastes, but the vicar didn’t pay it any mind. “You looked up to him. More than you should have, I fear.”

“Listen,” Felix interrupted, sitting up. “If you’re just here to tell me I should’ve known better because he was a _Philosophist_ or some shit, I don’t want to hear it. If that’s all you have to say, then shut up and get out.”

Hurt flashed across the preacher’s face, which… confused Felix. “Not at all. My own disregard for the man and his… _beliefs_ has nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, yeah?” Felix raised an eyebrow. “Then spit it out already.”

“There are others out there just like Graham Bryant. People who will search for those with good hearts, good intentions, and find ways to twist them into something foul. None of us could have foreseen that, here—”

Something angry flashed in the vicar’s eyes. “Though I, at least, should have. If I had seen the snake in the grass, Mr. Millstone, rest assured I would’ve exterminated it before you could be properly ensnared.”

“I… huh?”

Max was the one to avert his gaze. “My point is this: you are not a distrustful person. That is not necessarily a fault. But you must learn to discern where you overextend your trust. You must learn to disallow those opportunists from abusing you.”

The vicar was using a lot of big words, a lot of phrases that didn’t make complete sense even _in_ context, but one thing came through loud and clear. Anger of his own began to build. “You’re saying it’s _my fault_ that I’m upset about this? About a _traitor?_ Because I liked him too much?”

Max paused, frow burrowing, a frown setting onto his face. “I… No, I’m not sure how you—”

“Get the fuck out, preacher.” 

The silence that followed was palpable, so tense you could cut it with a blade. Max rose to his feet, slowly, but he paused at the door. Felix was preparing a quick-witted remark — something that would make Ellie proud, like _“I’ll pay you back with interest”_ — when Max spoke one last time.

“The only one to blame here is the snake, Mr. Millstone.”

At last, Max left the room, the door closing behind him. Felix stared at the shut door for a long moment, the anger draining out of him, leaving him feeling only confused. Was that… the preacher’s attempt at comforting him?

He almost laughed. Of course _Max_ would try to put him at ease and up spitting in his face. Those Scientician freaks couldn’t define empathy if the definition was giving them a topless lapdance. Not that Felix could, either, but at least he could admit it.

Oh, well. Soon they’d be on Scylla — soon he’d see Harlow again — and he could put all of this behind him.

— 

Harlow. Fucking Harlow.

Maximillian DeSoto had been worried about Felix after Graham Bryant’s betrayal. Felix had become cold and withdrawn, keeping to his quarters and refusing to leave. The tossball games had become a lonely affair for the vicar without the gungho boy at his side to cheer for the losing team. 

But this? This was worse, somehow. 

Felix was always an open book. In the weeks they’d spent traveling together, the vicar didn’t know him to even attempt to hide his own feelings. He was without censorship. Often times this was not a good thing, but it was part of who Felix was. It was as essential to him as the vicar’s own… violent enthusiasm.

This meant, of course, that when Felix showed up for the usual tossball game like nothing was wrong, that it was even more of a cause for concern. 

Max had never before had quite this strong of an urge to eviscerate a dead man.

“Mr. Millstone.”

“Max.”

Max frowned. Felix frowned right back from where he was sitting at the table, bottle in hand, as if Max had offended him merely in the look. “You must be reeling, after everything.”

“Huh?” Felix stared at him. Max nearly couldn’t believe it, but he truly seemed to be genuinely confused. His eyebrows furrowed, like he was trying to solve a particularly difficult puzzle. For Felix, that was most puzzles. “What are you talking about?”

“You cannot be serious. I am, of course, speaking of what happened with Harlow.”

“Oh. You mean how he’s an agent of the Board and not at all the revolutionary he pretended to be? Betrayed his own principles and all that junk?”

Now it was Max’s turn to furrow his brows. Felix spoke so dismissively. He was looking away now, toward the kitchen cabinets. 

Max pulled out a seat directly next to him. “Yes.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. I talked about it with the captain and I’m pretty much over it.”

Max believed that about as much as he believed in the likelihood of the Rizzo’s Rangers winning this upcoming match. He fought back a sigh. “Felix, with all due respect, I don’t wish to pry this out of you. You are clearly in pain, and more than that, you’ve made your feelings on traitors clear in the past. There’s no need to put up such a front.”

Felix scowled. _There_ it was. There was that flint of anger, that revolutionary spark, that Max had been expecting in those dark eyes. _“All due respect,_ old man, I don’t really owe you anything. I just came out here to enjoy the tossball game.”

Perhaps Felix needed the distraction. For a moment, Max almost relented. 

“Very well—”

“Hey, actually, quick question.”

Max shut his mouth and raised his eyebrow.

“Let’s say you’re me. Now I know you’re not, I’m not _stupid,_ but for the sake of argument, pretend you’re me. Pretend you’ve got all these grand ideas of a revolution on the streets, a revolution that gets people excited to be alive, to escape the corporate heel. This guy comes along and says it’s _possible._ Says he’s gonna lead it, that he’s got big plans. You’re young and stupid and starry-eyed, so you believe him. Then he not only turns out to be a fucking Board crony, but then he _also_ tries to kill you and your captain for finding that out. How the fuck do you react?”

Felix’s breathing came harder as that all came out of him, his hands fisting at his sides. For a moment, it seemed as if he was going to crack the bottle of Zero-Gee in his hands.

Max thought about genuinely considering the hypothetical. Then: “Now, Felix. That was not at all a ‘quick question.’”

The response startled a laugh out of the boy. He set his beer down and rubbed at his face with both hands, hiding his expression. “Fuck, Max. I don’t know anymore, you know? I just… I don’t know.”

Max was not one to show his more… tender emotions. But somehow, he found himself with a hand on the boy’s shoulder anyway. Felix leaned in to the touch, no doubt without thinking.

That was what Max liked about him. For as rough around the edges, for as vulgar and violent and expressive as he was, Felix wasn’t one to lie, to pretend, to give a second thought to any urge or opinion he had. It was… endearing.

“I really thought Graham was a good man. I was wrong. I thought the same thing about Harlow and I was wrong. Turns out I’m real shit at reading people, huh?”

“We both know that isn’t true.”

“Isn’t it?”

The game was starting. The static-ridden voice of the announcer came on at an appropriate volume, as they were no longer permitted to blare it across the ship after Nyoka and Ellie’s combined complaints. The volume was turned down a notch lower, allowing it to become nothing but white noise to fill the space between them. ADA’s doing, perhaps. She was always better at reading the room than they ever gave her credit for.

“You’re an incredibly honest person, Felix.” Max started slowly, testing terrain, but Felix gave him no sign that he should shut up. “And it’s in your nature to expect the same of others. You are… trusting. While it is true you should learn to spot the red flags, it’s equally true others shouldn’t plant them.”

“Max.” Felix reached up and knocked against his own head, as if it were hollow. “Don’t use any flowery language. Please.”

Max wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to sigh. The upward twitch of Felix’s mouth gave the impression he was joking, but Max decided instead to barrel on. “Harlow wasn’t the person he claimed he was. From what I’ve gathered, he raised you like a son.”

If there was a pang of jealousy there, Max did not acknowledge it.

“That he became what he claimed to hate isn’t on your shoulders. You don’t need to bear your father’s burdens. Now you must decide what to do with this information. Let it consume you, fill you with hate, with a refusal to trust anyone ever again? Or will you take this hurt and carve a purpose out of it?”

There was a cheer from the audience. Felix sat up, an odd look on his face as he gazed at him. “That was… surprisingly insightful.”

Max scoffed. “I _am_ a vicar.”

“Yeah, but, like—” Felix floundered for a moment. “You know—I just—uh.” Finally he shrugged. “I’ll… keep that in mind. Y’know?”

“Glad to hear it.” 

Another moment of silence stretched between them, broken by the sounds of the game. It was long enough that Max had opened his mouth to ask ADA to turn it up, but was interrupted as Felix added:

“Y’know, uh. I… never thought about it a whole lot, but I guess you’re right. About him being like a dad to me and all.”

Max bit his tongue. Envy was unbecoming of a man of the cloth. “Oh?”

“But he didn’t deserve it. He was a snake, like you said. Empty words and emptier actions. But…”

Felix froze. He was staring at Max, mouth open, as if there was more he wanted to say. The vicar furrowed his brow and was considering telling him to spit it out already. But then it _clicked._ That something unsaid rooted out the jealousy he’d stumbled upon, and Max found himself smiling wryly.

He clapped Felix on the back. “Well, enough of that. Let’s enjoy the game, hmm?”

“Huh? Oh. Oh, yeah.” Felix straightened and shot him a triumphant grin. “But uh, just so you know, after that performance last week, the Rizzo’s Rangers are absolutely about to kick the Darlings’ collective asses.”

Max scoffed. “If the Rangers were half as vicious as you, perhaps there’d be some merit to that. Instead it’s all bark and no bite.”

“Hey, what am I, a dog?”

As loyal as one, perhaps. But to call Felix Millstone a dog would be an insult. He was a stalwart, steadfast companion, and he deserved the same. Maximillian DeSoto was honored to play the part.

**Author's Note:**

> Does this take place pre- or post-"The Empty Man"? Hm. I have no idea. 
> 
> I have a lot of feelings about like... Felix, having been betrayed by his own father figure, finding another father figure in the vicar. Finding family on the Unreliable. Ugh. Found family is such a top tier trope, isn't it?
> 
> Let me know your thoughts in the comments!


End file.
